Words are lost in translation and
my mind is a blur of yes and no and run,
but I wait for someone to step out of this blur
and say something that sounds like a warm greeting–
a hello from quiet mornings and coffee–
but my thoughts are too light for the harsh reality that claims my fate,
and I can’t run away
from a present perfect destruction that waits in the corners of every room–
every hidden space that makes a piece of the puzzle that was never meant to be there.
It was never meant to fit where
I wanted to place it.
I wasn’t meant for building concrete things.
I was meant for discreet passage ways
In tunnels that have no space for answers.